


The Seven Moons of Cynex

by Serriya (Keolah)



Series: Sigma Sector [1]
Category: Vampire: The Masquerade
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Gen, IN SPACE!, Royalty, Spaceships, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 1998-09-14
Updated: 1998-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humanity went to the stars, and vampires went with them. In the far future, a young girl's family is torn apart and scattered across the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cynex

_Terran Date: May 17, Year 526 of the Interstellar Age  
Sixth Day of Space, Month of the Void, Season of Spirit_

She heard the scream, piercing the cold dawn with such utter hatred that she knew it couldn't have been suicide. Running, though she knew her sister could not have survived the fall, she came to the base of the tower that had been her sister's home. 

"Amber!" cried the girl, terrified. 

There lay her deceased sister, the stone that was her namesake shattered against the stone of the courtyard. 

The princess fell to her knees beside her sister's body, tears welling from her eyes. "Silvane protect me, for my sister is dead!" 

"Oh, no," gasped a voice above her. There stood her older brother, Katul, on Amber's balcony. "Oh, no," he breathed again, barely audible. Katul fell to his knees and spoke a traditional litany. "Silvane protect me, for my sister is dead! Let not her shade fall upon our house. May she be free to join our mother in the Void." 

His soft voice droned on and on, pleading to Silvane and various others that Amber be guided safely to her afterlife and no harm fall upon those associated with her. 

The servants appeared, a full score of them, panicked. The princess finally looked up into Katul's eyes, meeting her own, and she saw fear and innocence in those eyes. Then in a flash it was gone, for the king's steward had arrived. 

"What has happened here?" asked the pompous steward, as if it wasn't completely obvious. 

The servant all looked to Katul and declared, "He did it. He killed the Royal Amber. The Royal Katul is a traitor and an assassin!" 

Katul shook his head in sheer terror, revealing the X-shaped birthmark on his forehead. This was the mark of the royal family of Cynex, and all of that family had the X-marking somewhere on their bodies. 

The steward turned sharply to Katul, who stood trembling atop Amber's balcony. "Did you do it, Katul? Did you slay your sister?" 

"No," Katul whimpered, backing away. "No." 

Then the young steward turned to the princess. "Princess Arecana, did you see the fall?" 

The princess was tempted to lie as she never had been tempted before, if only to protect her brother who she knew was innocent. But if it were discovered that she had lied, her own credibility would be in question. Yet she understood little about the politics of the situation, being only a child, even though she was the king's chosen heir. 

"I heard Amber's scream," she told him. "I did not see the fall." 

"Can you prove that Katul was not the one who killed Amber?" 

"I-I cannot," she sobbed. "I didn't see it. I heard her scream," she stuttered. "He didn't do it, Stewart. I can sense his innocence." 

"If you did not see the fall you cannot prove his innocence," Stewart replied coldly with forced calm. Then he turned to the guards who had appeared. "Take Katul to the Hall of Justice." 

The rest was a blur to Arecana. Being little more than a child she barely understood anything that was going on. She did, however, understand that her brother was innocent.

* * *

 _Terran Date: May 20, Year 526 of the Interstellar Age  
Second Day of Heart, Month of Soul, Season of Spirit_

Katul, however, understood the proceedings all too well, and knew his life to be in danger. The trial was perfunctory at best, a mockery of justice. 

"You are charged with murder of the Royal Amber," the judge intoned. 

"I slew her not," Katul said through clenched teeth. 

"Can you prove your innocence?" he demanded. "Can you prove that it was not your hands which pushed the Royal Amber from her balcony?" 

Katul felt nervous being alone with the judge and the guards, each of whom he was certain was merely a pawn in somebody's game. "I cannot prove that. The maid approched me in mine chambers and informed me that Amber wished to speak with me. I climbed the stairs into her tower, but even as I reached her chambers, she had already fallen. There were only servants around. One of them surely hath done the deed." 

"Your word alone supports you," the judge pointed out. 

"I am the son of the king," Katul replied bitterly. "My word alone should be enough." 

"You cannot prove your innocence, therefore you are guilty." 

Katul glowered. He couldn't believe this was happening. "Who is it whose money you accepted in exchange for convicting me, Your Honor?" 

The judge pointedly paid no attention to him. "The sentence for murder on Cynex for one of your rank is exile to another planet. You will be put on the ship that just arrived here which is bound for Hershold, seventeen lightyears away." 

To him, it was a lifetime away. Seventeen lightyears, both to and from Hershold. Even if he left immediately after arriving, his beloved youngest--now only--sister would be a grown woman and have children of her own, maybe even grandchildren. 

"Why must thou do this to me?" Katul asked the judge quietly. "I would never dream of slaying Amber. See thou not the tears in mine eyes?" 

The judge ignored him. "You will remain on Hershold until and unless recalled by royal decree," announced the judge, and his word was final. 

"Then it is true what they say," Katul mused as he was lead forcefully out of the courtroom. 

"Any attempt to escape while on Cynex will result in death," continued the judge. "Any attempt to alter the destination of the jumpship will result in death if you return to Cynex." The guards and Katul reached the door to the courtroom. 

"Justice truly is blind," Katul finished.

* * *

 _Terran Date: May 23, 526 I.A.  
Fifth Day of Heart, Month of Soul, Season of Spirit_

Arecana hadn't stopped crying since she had seen her sister dead. She understood that Katul had to be going away, but she really didn't comprehend why or even where he was going or how long he would be away. She saw the strange ship he was getting on, a jumpship they called it, but she didn't know what its purpose was or why it looked the way it did. Being a princess, she had seen ships before. Some sailed in the water, some flew in the air, some flew in space between Cynex and its seven moons. To Arecana, the jumpship most resembled the interplanetary vessels of Cynex, though it had an enduring, ancient quality wholly alien to those moonships. 

The night of Katul's departure, their father and stepmother appeared to see him off. It was an unusual occurance for them, because they rarely showed themselves outside the castle walls. Arecana sensed that Katul did not appreciate the irony of this, for he despised his stepmother and his father by association for marrying her. He had changed when he married her, and the wedding was held in the dead of night. Katul distrusted these people who called themselves his parents. 

"Why is my brother leaving, father?" Arecana asked, grasping his cold, pale hand for what scant comfort it could bring. 

The king reached down and picked up the princess as he had when she was a babe. "He needs to go away for awhile, Arecana. You'll understand when you're older." 

But the princess didn't want to wait to understand; she wanted to understand now. "Why won't you tell me, father? I don't care if I don't understand. Tell me why he's leaving." 

The king sighed and clasped his daughter to his chest. "Your brother has been naughty, Arecana. He has done something bad, so he is being sent away for awhile until he starts behaving better." 

"Katul didn't do it, father," the princess murmured in his ear. "He didn't kill Amber. He loved her." 

"Hush now, daughter. It's way past your bedtime. Don't speak of such things any longer. Now off to bed, little princess. Sweet dreams." 

He set her down on the ground and gave her a little push toward her chambers. Arecana knew she would dream that night, though the dreams would be far from sweet.

* * *

 _Terran Date: June 23, 526 I.A.  
First Day of Fear, Month of Emotion, Season of Spirit_

"She must be sent away," Kraelle hissed, catlike. "She is a danger to us and our plan." 

The king stroked his bare chin and rumbled low in his throat, not responding. 

"You cannot deny that Arecana will one day become a woman, and when she does she will rise up and overthrow us. Better to send her to another world. It will take years for the jumpship to get there, thus giving us that much more time before she comes of age. Even if we only sent her as far away as Z'nandre, it would be more than twenty years before she would return." 

"Very well," the king agreed suddenly. "We shall send her to Z'nandre." 

Kraelle was silent. She had not expected him to give in quite this easily. So she changed the subject. "Which town are you hunting in tonight, Esyrus?" 

The king glanced up at her and shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. I'll take Rheze. It hasn't been hunted in for more than a month now." 

"Shall we hunt together tonight, then?" cooed Kraelle seductively. 

"Aye, my dearest Kraelle," the king sighed. "Let us go to the skyhopper. Rheze is twenty miles from here, so we should reach it in about fifteen minutes." 

"Lead the way, King of Cynex," the pale-skinned woman purred. "I grow hungry."

* * *

 _Terran Date: June 27, 526 I.A.  
Fifth Day of Fear, Month of Emotion, Season of Spirit_

"Where am I going, father?" asked the princess innocently. 

"To a place called Z'nandre, Arecana," whispered the king. "You will be safe there." 

"Safe from what?" 

"From the people who would see you hurt, little one," he told her. 

"You're sending me away just like you did Katul," she replied. "You're afraid of us, father. You're terrified. I can feel your fear. Why are you afraid of your own children?" 

Her statement of this made the king so afraid that he almost dropped her, his terror entirely tangible to her. Two of Cynex's moons were visible from the spaceport: Polang and Eradie, both red in color. To the Cynexians they represented War and Fear. 

Shuddering, Esyrus turned his back on his daughter and fled to the sanctity of his chambers. 

"My father has run from me," Arecana spoke quietly, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. "Why does my father fear me?" 

"Come, Princess Arecana," beckoned the jumpship's captain. "We need to leave tonight." 

"How long is the journey?" asked the princess. 

"Not all that long," the captain smiled sadly. "You will go to sleep, and when you wake we will be nearing Z'nandre." 

That didn't sound too scary. The little princess followed him into the ship, taking her seat in the strange chair he directed her to, allowing him to strap her arms and legs and head into the chair. 

"When will I come back home?" she asked him. 

"Soon, Your Highness," the captain replied. "When all this has settled down, you'll come back to Cynex." 

He strode out of the tiny compartment, which seemed fairly large to Arecana. It was then that his words hit her, and she realized that she was going to a different world. A world called Z'nandre, far distant and strange compared to her own. She knew then that it would be a very long time before she looked upon the moons over Cynex again. 

It dawned on her that Katul had also been sent to another world, since this was the same kind of ship even if it wasn't the same ship. With the fierce hope of freeing her brother of his wrongful exile, Arecana clung to her trembling chair as the jumpship sailed into the space between the stars. Then darkness fell upon her.


	2. Z'nandre

_Terran Date: February 6, 533 I.A.  
Fifth Day of Time, Month of Possibility, Season of Spirit_

"Here we are, princess," announced the captain. "Z'nandre. World of people who fly on their own wings." 

Arecana walked blinking into the bright world of Z'nandre, awestruck at its exotic beauty, enthralled with its alien colors, enamored with its strange glory. A group of winged people approached and offered to give their new guests a tour of the city. Dazzled, Arecana accepted. 

"Beautiful!" breathed the girl. "What kind of world is this, where people have wings and stones are pink?" 

"Z'nandre," smiled the captain. "The only civilized planet near Cynex." 

"I think I could live here," Arecana stated. 

"You will," he told her. "I have to be making a jump to Talagon soon. I'll only be here a few days." 

"Talagon?" she glared at him, the closest thing she had now to a father. "Where's that?" 

"Sixteen lightyears from here," the captain told her. "Then I'll be going back to Cynex. I'm sorry, little one, but the flightplans of jumpships can't be changed, since they are drawn up decades in advance." 

"Will I ever see you again? I don't even know your name," Arecana whimpered. She could only tell the names of those who were telepathic, since their minds were more open than other people. 

"Such often happens with starjumping. My name is Bettrovy, my homeworld Ittren's Crossing." 

Arecana was boggled by all the unfamiliar names. "Where is Ittren's Crossing?" 

"It's very far from here, to your point of view," the captain smiled sadly. "I left that world before your dynasty was even born. I was the first Ittrenite jumpship captain, in the interstellar year 163 when the first Terrans arrived and taught us how to build jumpships." 

"How can that be? You look to be no older than maybe thirty." 

"I've spent these centuries in the void between worlds," Bettrovy explained. "I experience only a few days every stop, then I jump again to the next world. When I arrive, it is years later though I have not experienced that." 

"You must see many interesting things," Arecana observed. 

"Yes, I see many different worlds, many strange cultures. But it's lonely work. I'm always on the go, and I keep few friends outside the crew. Most of them are jumpers themselves." 

"You are a sad man, Captain Bettrovy," the girl commented. 

"Yes," he replied distantly. "Very sad. You are an empath, Princess. Did you know that?" 

"I knew," she told him quietly. "Why does my father fear me? He is terrified of me, that's why he sent me away. He hates me." 

Bettrovy opened his mouth to protest that, but he closed it again. He answered instead, "I don't know, girl. You are wise beyond your years. You'll find a way back to Cynex, somehow, but jumpships almost never fly from Z'nandre to Cynex. I wish you luck, daughter. Goodbye." 

With that Captain Bettrovy turned and left her there, standing alone on the landing platform. 

"Dear me, there's a little Cynexian girl whose been abandoned here!" 

Arecana turned to the concerned woman. She appeared to be an older woman, wingless, perhaps an immigrant from Cynex as well. Her concern was genuine, and her thoughts held not a trace of ill will for the girl. 

"Hello, ma'am," Arecana greeted her quietly. "My name is Arecana." 

"A beautiful child," the woman cooed. "I think I'll adopt you. I'm called Mimie." 

"I came on that ship," the girl told her. "This is a pretty world." 

Mimie smiled, crinkling her wrinkled face. "Come with me, daughter. Come to my house. I live at the edge of the river." 

"Okay," Arecana agreed after asserting Mimie's good will. 

The little girl and the old woman walked down the street of pink stones toward the heart of the city.

* * *

 _Terran Date: February 8, 533 I.A.  
Seventh Day of Time, Month of Possibility, Season of Spirit_

Arecana quickly learned that the days on Z'nandre were twice as long as those on Cynex. She had trouble staying awake all twenty-five hours of daylight on the windy world. In addition to that, Mimie insisted at she attend the school in Port Z'nandre. 

"The world of Jathassi," intoned the teacher, "makes all leather products in this part of the universe. Our own Z'nandre makes silk. Cynex makes cotton, and Hershold makes wool. What does Orr make?" A gangly boy in the back of the room raised his hand. "Yes, Nicholas?" 

"Orr makes polyester," the little boy answered. 

"Very good, Nicholas. Does anyone know what Talagon makes?" A girl wearing spectacles shot her hand into the air. "Yes, Sechovah?" 

"Talagon produces linen," she spoke in a nasal voice. 

"Excellent, Sechovah," the teacher replied. 

Arecana found this topic of discussion to be extremely boring as well as being completely useless. 

"It's not useless, Arecana," the teacher chided her. "You can usually tell where a person is from by what they are wearing. I noticed that you are wearing cotton clothing, so you recently came here from Cynex." 

The Cynexian girl blinked. How had the teacher known what she was thinking? Then she reasoned that the woman was telepathic, which was likely a useful trait in an educator. Well, two could play at that game. 

"Yes, Lady F'ladda," Arecana smiled sweetly. "I just arrived yesterday." 

Now it was the teacher's turn to blink. She had not told the class her given name, only her tribal name, Ghel. But she was quick with an educator's retort. "The proper form of address on Z'nandre is Mistress F'ladda, Arecana." 

"As you wish, Mistress F'ladda." 

The teacher sighed in frustration and went on with the lesson. "Are there any questions about this subject?" Arecana raised her hand with the pride of a princess. "Arecana?" 

"What about Ittren's Crossing?" 

"That's a very long way from here," F'ladda Ghel wrinkled her forehead. "Can anyone tell Arecana anything about Ittren's Crossing?" 

Nicholas raised his hand. "It makes rayon." 

"Besides that," muttered the Cynexian girl in frustration. 

A winged girl raised her slender hand. "Ittren's Crossing was first contacted by Terra in the year 163 of the Interstellar Age. It was named after the captain of the first ship from Terra, who died because of an Ittrenite bacteria soon after landing." 

"Thank you, Losa," F'ladda replied. 

Arecana sighed and shrugged. That was more or less what she was wondering about. Nodding, the teacher dismissed the class for brunch.

* * *

 _Terran Date: March 10, 533 I.A.  
Second Day of Learning, Month of Intelligence, Season of Mind_

Arecana fell into the habit of spending her afternoons at the spaceport, after F'ladda released her from school for lunch until Mimie came and collected her for tea. That was another curiosity she noticed about Z'nandre. Because of the longer days, the residents of the windy world ate six meals a day instead of three--breakfast, brunch, lunch, tea, supper, and dinner--and typically woke up late at night for a midnight snack as well. Arecana ate lunch down at the street vendors on the way to the spaceport. 

Eager for a chance to rescue her brother, whom she had learned at school was still en route to Hershold at this point, she checked the schedule and determined when the next ship was planning on arriving. It was a Talagonese ship bound for Orr. With hope, she might be able to use her royal influence to alter its destination. 

"Hello, sir," Arecana greeted the ship's captain. 

"Hi there," smiled the bearded man. 

"Why are you going to Orr instead of Cynex?" 

The captain looked up at her. She was standing on a deck overlooking the platform so that his eyes were at ankle-level to her. "I don't know why, we're just going there." 

"You couldn't stop at Cynex on the way?" 

"No, that would put us nearly a full year behind schedule." 

Arecana rolled her eyes. "Schedules, schedules! You jumpers are so obsessed with schedules!" 

"There are people on Orr depending on my ship arriving on time," he grumbled. He was beginning to grow irritated. 

The princess knew that she had to play her only card. She shifted her silks so that the X-shaped marking on her ankle was visible. "I am Princess Arecana of Cynex," she told him. 

"That's nice," he snorted. "I still can't change the flight plan. Go away." 

"By my royal word I command you to go to Hershold!" she ordered him in a strained voice. 

"Get real, kid. And go tell your fairy-tales to someone else. I've got some errands to run. Go play princess somewhere else." 

With that, the jumpship captain strode away, leaving Arecana standing speechless, her mouth hanging open in astonishment.

* * *

 _Terran Date: May 27, 533 I.A.  
Second Day of Righteous, Month of Wisdom, Season of Mind_

Arecana pored over the schedules again and again, learning the date a ship bound for Hershold was to arrive. However, Cynex was not the next stop on the flight plan. The ship would go from Hershold to another planet whose name she could neither pronounce nor even remember. 

"Hello, ma'am," she greeted the captain, standing in the same place she had before. 

"Salutations," muttered the red-haired woman. 

Arecana didn't bother asking what that meant. "I read on the schedule that you're ship is flying to Hershold." 

"That's right. You want to go there?" 

"No, not me. My brother's gonna be there by the time you arrive. I'd like him to get to Cynex, where I will be heading as soon as I can, but I know you can't change your flight plan." 

"I'm glad you understand that," the captain commented. "But I could deliver a message to him if you'd like. We'll be leaving in five standard days. That's about two or three planetary days. Just give me your letter before we leave and I'll personally make certain your brother receives it." 

"Oh, would you?" Arecana smiled, tears of joy coming to her eyes unbidden. It was more than she had hoped for. "I'll go write it right away!" 

"Don't hurry, pretty one," the captain warned her. "It may be the only contact you have with your brother for years. Take your time, we'll be here a few days." 

"Thank you so much, Mistress Lady Captain," she beamed, rushing away so she could write her letter. 

Arecana pranced down the pink-paved streets and burst into Mimie's house, sifting through several drawers in search of a pen and some paper. Her foster mother entered and stood at the doorway. 

"What are you up to, Arecana?" asked Mimie. 

"I'm going to write a letter, Mimie." 

The old woman was amused. "To whom, may I ask?" 

"My brother," she told her guardian. 

"You have a brother, Arecana?" 

"Yes, his name is Katul, and he'll be on Hershold by the time this letter arrives." 

Mimie cocked her head. "Are your parents with him?" 

"No, my mother has been dead for years, Silvane protect her, and my father is on Cynex." 

Her excited hands finally grasped what she was looking for. Trembling, the girl pulled the stationery out of its drawer and set it down on the desk, digging out a ballpoint pen as well. The paper was a pale blue with little pink clouds around the edges. 

"Dear Katul," she wrote. "I have missed you so much! I'm writing you from Z'nandre now. As soon as I can, I'll have a ship take you back home, where I will be to welcome you."

* * *

 _Terran Date: June 1, 533 I.A.  
Seventh Day of Righteous, Month of Wisdom, Season of Mind_

Arecana hopped down to the platform, carrying a letter several pages long. Spotting the captain, she skipped over and greeted her. 

"I have my letter, Madam Captain," she told her unnecessarily. 

Taking the letter, the captain asked, "What is your brother's name so I know who to give this to?" 

"His name is Katul, and he has an X-shaped birthmark on his forehead. You can't miss him." 

Smiling, the woman replied, "I'll be sure to get this to him. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help." 

"Don't worry about it," Arecana assured her. "I checked the schedules, and there's a ship going from here to Hershold to Cynex, arriving here in a few months. I mentioned that in my letter." 

"That's good," the captain nodded. "Gotta go now. Goodbye, little one. I hope you see your brother again soon." 

"Farewell, Mistress Captain," Arecana bubbled with glee. "And thank you for your help!" 

Waving, the captain boarded the jumpship, and they never saw each other again.

* * *

 _Terran Date: November 2, 533 I.A.  
Sixth Day of Dawn, Month of the Sun, Season of Fire_

She sent letters to Katul on every Hershold-bound ship that would take them thereafter, telling him what had happened on Cynex after he had left and what life was like on Z'nandre. She also told him her plans for the future, for returning to Cynex and reclaiming what they had lost. Finally, the jumpship she had been waiting for arrived. 

It was a sleek ship, even though aerodynamics mattered little in the Void between stars. It had the uncanny look of an Orrese obsidian arrowhead like they had learned about in class. Blazoned across its ebony sides was the name, T.J.S. Saviour. 

"Saviour," breathed Arecana. "It's perfect! Captain! Captain!" she called. 

Again, she was standing on the deck overlooking the landing platform. "What is it, girl?" asked the man. He had a mustache but his chin was shaven. 

"Listen, sir, my brother is on Hershold. We're Cynexians and--and I'd like him to get to Cynex, if it isn't too much trouble. I'll be heading there myself as soon as I can find a ship bound for there." 

The captain snorted. "You'll never find one. There's a jumpship superstition against going from a planet with no moons to one with seven." 

"Why is that?" wondered Arecana, amazed that her father could have so completely isolated her here. 

"Oh, some claim it's about magnetic variances," shrugged the middle-aged man. "They'll go from a planet with seven moons to one with none, but not vice versa. Don't ask me to explain, it's just one of those jumpers' quirks. You may find a newer ship Cynex-bound though." 

"That's silly," scoffed the girl. "Why would you avoid a specific flight plan because of the number of moons?" 

"And what's this about your brother, girl? I don't take passengers for free, you know." 

Arecana hadn't thought of that. "I'll pay you when you arrive in Cynex," she told him stubbornly. "You're next stop after Cynex is Orr, right?" 

"Yeah, what of it?" 

"If I'm not there or I haven't left a message or payment for you on Cynex, take my brother on to Orr. I can find a ship bound for there easily enough. Then we can planet-hop back to Cynex." 

"That's acceptable. You can pay me on Orr, or whenever I next return to Cynex. That'll be in about twelve jumps. You'd be long dead by then, but you can still leave payment to me. Otherwise I'll have to get it from your next of kin." 

Arecana made a crooked smile at his morbid sense of humor, although she realized he wasn't joking. "I'm Princess Arecana of Cynex, Captain," she told him, revealing her birthmark. "Any relatives of mine would have this marking somewhere on their body. My brother's mark is on his forehead. Hold on, I'm going to prepare a letter of royal decree. He can only return to Cynex under royal decree." 

"You're the Princess of Cynex?" wondered the captain. "Though I see by your birthmark that it's true. Certainly I will help. One of your lineage helped me out a while back after I took him to Jathassi." 

Calling to the street vendors, Arecana acquired a pen and some paper in exchange for a few Z'nandrean dollars. She also bought a special Cynexian ink, which she smeared on her ankle. The jumpship captain watched with mingled amusement and fascination as she pressed the paper up against her birthmark and had the X imprinted clearly upon the paper. 

"Royal decree," muttered Arecana. She started writing, using the railing as a desk. "By my royal decree I, Arecana Princess of Cynex, do hereby recall the Royal Katul from his exile to report to me in Cynexia upon his return." 

The princess blew the ink dry and folded the letter in a specific way, then handed it to the captain. Wiping off her ankle, Arecana had a deep sense of satisfaction that she had finally done something right.


	3. Cynex

_Terran Date: February 9, 536 I.A.  
Second Day of Hand, Month of Skill, Season of Mind_

Victring strode angrily down the dark corridors of the Palace of Cynexia. He was not at all pleased with current developments. Passing an open window, the blue light of one of the Cynexian moons briefly illuminated his chalky white skin. 

He reached the kitchen. "Stewart." 

The steward came to his feet. "You have the plans, Victring?" 

"I have them." 

"By the way, why did you want to meet me in the kitchen?" 

Victring smiled a wicked smile. "Because it's the only place in Cynexia that Kraelle would never go." 

"I thought she was your liege lady," wondered a puzzled Stewart. 

"Understand this, Stewart. I serve Kraelle openly because I have no choice. I did not choose to be this way--she made me what I am. But I do not approve of her plans, therefore I will fight her covertly. That's why I asked you to meet me here." 

The steward took a step back as if he had been slapped in the face. "I understand perfectly, Victring. May I see the plans?" 

The pale-skinned man pulled a sheaf of papers tied with a red ribbon out of his black cloak. Almost reluctantly, he handed them over to Stewart. "You know what you are supposed to do." 

Nodding, the steward stuffed the plans into his doublet and left the room as quickly as he could. 

Victring added quietly, "And you know what will happen if you don't." 

Stewart didn't stand a chance. If anyone found out what he was doing, he would face the same fate as he would if he refused to aid Victring. This thought made the black-robed man smile widely. He didn't particularly like the steward. The silly mortal was too cocky for his own good. 

Pleased, Victring went outside to the Cynexian shipyard. The jumpship Paladin had just been completed a few days before and was being tested daily with lunar excursions. Victring, however, was concerned with the group of scientists he would either have to subdue or kill. He'd be in enough trouble if the plan failed without adding to his extensive list of crimes.

* * *

_Terran Date: February 10, 536 I.A.  
Third Day of Hand, Month of Skill, Season of Mind_

"This had better work, Stewart," growled the sergeant. "I'm not in this for the politics." 

"That much is understood," the steward nodded. "You're being well-paid for your efforts. Remember that." 

"But really, sir, isn't this plan a little--" 

"Nonsense, sergeant, you just have to do what you're told and everything will be all right." 

"Okay, Stewart, what's the plan?" 

"Sabotage the moonship fleet--quietly, mind you, and not so badly they can't be fixed eventually. Do it tonight." 

The sergeant saluted. "It will be done, sir." 

"Dismissed." The old soldier turned on his heel and strode out of the office. "That is one who will have to be watched," the steward commented to himself. He chuckled. "Now, on to phase two." 

Stewart called in the page. "Bring the pilot." 

Nodding, the boy scurried out of the room. The steward pulled a map of nearby stars out of his drawer. Little black dots were labeled in the local interstellar alphabet. Cynex was circled in red against the white background. Other points near Cynex were Z'nandre, Orr, Hershold, and Talagon, the four nearest planets. Lines between the dots told Stewart that Z'nandre was seven lightyears away, Orr five, and Hershold and Talagon both about seventeen. 

Knocking, the pilot entered. "You must realize that this is highly irregular." 

"That much is obvious," noted the steward wryly. 

"And it goes against jumpers' superstitions--" 

"I don't care about your seven years of bad luck, because if you don't go along with this you won't live seven minutes!" 

The pilot flinched. "I see. Well, that puts a whole new perspective on things. When am I to do it, and for that matter, who can I trust?" 

"Nobody," Stewart told him sharply. 

"I can't overpower the scientists all by myself," the skinny man protested. 

"You won't have to. Someone is coming along to ensure your safety. This is what you have to do. Make sure all the observation windows are sealed shut, so sunlight can't come in." 

The pilot blinked. "I won't bother asking why, since you're not likely to tell me anyway, but what do I tell the scientists?" 

"Oh, tell them that you have a rare skin disease, or that your doctor wants you to stay out of the sun. I don't care, just do it!" 

Nervously, the bony man nodded. "I'll do it. I don't particularly want to, but I'll do it." 

"That's all I want," Stewart said quietly. "Dismissed!" 

The pilot hurried from the room.

That night, Victring snuck on board the Paladin with a large box in tow. He found a dark storage cabinet that obviously hadn't ever been used and placed the box inside. 

"I thought I'd find you here." 

Victring spun around at the sound of the voice, but it was only Stewart. "Don't sneak up on people." 

"Thought you were perceptive." 

"I was distracted," Victring defended himself. "Did you tell them what they're to do?" 

"I told them," the steward replied. "She's been gone for ten years now, why do you want to bring her back?" 

Victring smiled his typical sinister smile. "You'll see." 

"You won't be back for fourteen years, Victring. I want to my payment now, or I'm calling this all off." 

"I was afraid you'd become difficult," Victring sighed. "Things would be much simpler for both of us if you just forget that you know anything about this." 

"You're not gonna pay me, are you?" 

"Trust me, Stewart, you'll get what's coming to you." 

Mildly annoyed, the steward demanded, "I want what's coming to me, now!" 

"If you insist," Victring flashed his wicked grin. He grabbed Stewart in both hands and sank his teeth into the flesh at the mortal's neck, draining the life from his body. "I didn't want to have to do that just yet," Victring told the dying steward almost sadly. 

"No!" Stewart gasped at the truth revealed, then quietly slumped to the ground. 

"I'm sorry, Silvane," Victring whispered, closing the steward's eyes. "I would repent, but I cannot. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, please do so." 

Victring was still hungry, but this would have to do until the jumpship left Cynex. He dragged the corpse outside and saw a rare sight--all seven moons of Cynex in the sky at the same time. 

The red moons Polang and Eradie were both waxing crescents, while the pink moons Belasga, which symbolizes hope, was a waning gibbous. Silver Darrue, the moon of magic, was merely a sliver, although it too was waxing. Green Yawdim of love was a half-moon, but waning. Of the two blue moons, the moon of peace, Threnn, was waning, while the moon of knowledge, Waygreo, was waxing. 

"Not a good sign," Victring hissed, tearing himself away from the captivating sight. He turned to hiding the body in some foliage. As a precaution, he stabbed the corpse in the heart with his dagger, leaving the dagger in. It was a waste of a good weapon, but he didn't need it where he was going. 

Victring returned his gaze to the heavens. "When I return, there will be war on Cynex. There is still hope if I can grasp it before it fades away." 

He returned to the ship, stepped into the closet and shut the door, locking it so that it could only be opened from the inside. Then he slipped into the box and sealed the lid. The vibration of the ship at takeoff would wake him so that phase three could begin.

* * *

_Terran Date: February 11, 536 I.A.  
Fourth Day of Hand, Month of Skill, Season of Mind_

Trembling with anxiety, the pilot of the C.J.S. Paladin was fitting thick metal plates around the round portholes. "That ought to do the trick," he muttered. 

"What are you doing, Wordsworth?" 

Without looking at the scientist, the pilot replied, "I'm fixing the portholes so the sun can't come in." 

"Why?" 

Wordsworth had been preparing all night for this. "My doctor told me that I should avoid sunlight when outside the protective atmosphere of Cynex, since I am genetically at risk for cancer." 

It was the biggest lie he had ever told. "Oh, okay," shrugged the scientist. 

As soon as he was finished with the windows, the pilot got on the radio with the sergeant, whom he had run into last night. "Wordsworth here. I'm ready on this end. How about you? Over." 

"Ready, Wordsworth. Over." 

"Have you seen Stewart today? Over." 

"Nope, haven't seen him. Why, do you suppose something happened to him? Over." 

The pilot was concerned. Although he did not particularly like the steward, it did not bode well that something might have happened to him just before the plan was carried out. "Goodbye, my friend. Tell everyone who needs to know that it's for the greater good. Wordsworth out." 

"I'll do that. Over and out." 

He hoped that nobody was monitoring the channels, but it was too late to take back his words now. Wordsworth held back the tears welling up in his eyes. "And may Silvane watch over us all." 

In the dimly lit compartent, he heard the voice of the control tower operator come over the radio. "Departure in thirty seconds." 

Was he ready for this? He could just call off the plan right now. It was too dangerous, too risky. He didn't even know who was on his side anymore. Even better, he could tell the tower operator about the plan he had unveiled. He could halt the countdown. 

Even as he thought these things, he knew that he would do none of then. 

"Ten seconds." 

Wordsworth powered up the jumpship's breaking engines and prepared for departure. As he listened to the countdown, he went through the procedures he had been trained to do without really thinking about them. The jumpship rolled down the long runway, slowly gaining speed. Then, when it reached the right speed, Wordsworth pulled down hard on a lever, and the ship left the ground and soared into the air. 

"We have liftoff," commented the tower operator, although that was obvious to anyone who was in the immediate vicinity. 

Adjusting the controls, Wordsworth felt the decrease in air pressure as the altitude climbed and sealed the ship at the right moment. He slowly turned dials to pressurize the parts of the ship currently occupied by people. The numbers in the altimeter climbed while those in the barometer dropped. The global positioning satellites told him exactly where he was over Cynex. 

"We've cleared the atmosphere," commented one of the scientists. 

Because the ship was still being touched up, he didn't have a copilot yet, even though he had already been assigned to the Paladin for when it was ready for standard operation. 

Suddenly, the door to a storage cabinet behind him opened with a rush of air. He had not thought to pressurize the closets, since nobody would be using them on this trip. Wordsworth heard the scientists before him shuffling about, clearly agitated. 

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" demanded one. 

"I am Victring," a voice said quietly. The pilot was tempted to look back to see what was going on but he didn't dare. 

"What do you want?" asked another. 

"Cooperate with me and no one will get hurt," Victring continued. 

A scientist bolted for the radio, but nobody bothered to stop her. "Paladin is being taken over! Send the moonfleet! I fear they may try to make the jump!" She didn't even bother to say "over." 

"Paladin, what is your situation? We're powering up the moonships. Over," came the calm voice of the control tower operator. 

"A strange man calling himself Victring stowed away in a closet and demands cooperation. Over." 

The panicked voice of a young man came over the channel. "Control, my ship won't take off!" 

"Paladin, the moonfleet is grounded. Try to hold the ship until help can arrive. Over." 

The young man's voice came on again. "Moonfleet leader here. We've been sabotaged. We're trying to get off the ground as fast as we can. Over." 

Wordsworth found this conversation rather interesting, since he knew about the sabotage beforehand. He increased speed and pointed in the general direction of Z'nandre, starting to make the necessary calculations. 

"Control here. Paladin, what is your status? Over." 

The scientist was in a state of frenzy. She replied, "The pilot is calculating for the jump to lightspeed!" 

"Moonfleet here. Half of our ships are taking off now, the rest are too badly damaged for immediate repair. Over." 

The computer had to take the calculations from here, because they were too complicated for most people's comprehension. The pilot turned to his radio. "Wordsworth here, Paladin's pilot. Don't try to stop us, control. Over" 

"Wordsworth, what do you think you're doing!" shouted the tower operator. 

"I'm taking this baby on a little cruise, if you don't mind," Wordsworth replied, grinning. 

"Well, I do mind. Bring that ship back right now." 

"No, I don't think so." He looked at the screen and saw that the calculation were finished. 

"Moonfleet here. We've nearly caught up to him. Over." 

Wordsworth increased the speed again, matching that of the moonships. "Not this decade, folks. See you in fourteen years! Paladin out." He turned to the scientists. "Strap yourselves in, I'm going to quarter-light. That should put enough distance between us and the moonfleet." 

Reluctantly, the group of scientists strapped themselves into the special chairs. Victring returned to his closet. 

Wordsworth adjusted his own straps, checking to make sure they were sound. Then he pulled a lever toward him, making the jump to one quarter of the speed of light. "Next stop, Z'nandre," he announced, grabbing three more levers. 

He pulled the levers back, and darkness engulfed him.


	4. Hershold

_Terran Date: February 11, 536 I.A.  
Fourth Day of Hand, Month of Skill, Season of Mind_

Katul's first look of Hershold was of a world of endless sheep. Flocks of the woolly animals milled about in the fields below the landing platform, watched over by a few wandering shepherds. Wondering how they knew whose sheep was whose, or if they even cared, Katul stepped out of the ship behind his guards. 

One of the shepherds climbed up and greeted him. "Welcome to Hershold, neighbor. Are you here to stay?" 

"I am," Katul replied dejectedly. "My name is Katul." 

"I'm Hans. Are the armed ones staying also?" 

The major nodded. "We have been assigned to make sure Katul doesn't leave Hershold unless recalled by royal decree." 

"I see. Are you a criminal then?" asked Hans. 

"No, I have been falsely accused of the murder of my sister," Katul replied before the major could stop him. 

"Sister, you mean one of the girls who lived with you in your cave?" 

Katul blinked. "I lived not in a cave. She was my sister, born of the same mother and father." 

"I don't think I understand," Hans admitted. "Mother I understand, she was the one who carried you both. But what is 'father'?" 

"Nevermind," Katul sighed. What kind of a backward planet was this that they didn't know what a father was? "Where will I be staying on Hershold?" 

Hans smiled, "You can stay in my cave. The armed ones may sleep with the sheep." 

"We'll disarm," offered the major. "I don't see anything that will harm us from a planet of sheep." 

"You may sleep with the sheep," repeated Hans. He turned to Katul. "Come with me, brother. The armed one is correct about one thing, at least. You have nothing to fear from the sheep." 

Katul followed the shepherd down through the oceans of livestock and reached what, for lack of a better term, could be called a village. It was a place of many caves clustered near each other. Several folk dressed in wool smocks carried pottery and baskets from one cave to another. A group of children played outside. 

"Thy world is fair to mine eyes," Katul told Hans. 

"We are simple folk, brother Katul. The politics of your world mean little to us." 

"Then how do ye govern yourselves?" 

Hans looked puzzled. "What need have we for government? We tend our sheep, spin our clothes, and send wool and occasionally a lamb to the other planets in exchange for bread and vegetables. What else do we need?" 

"But, then, who negotiates the amount of wool to send, and when to send a lamb?" 

Hans smiled, "Is my brother so complicated as that? After we sheer our sheep for the summer, we pack the same amount of wool on the next ship as always. We always receive the same amount of bread and vegetables, and we always send a lamb once every three years unless our flocks are depleted." 

"That's all? What if ye receive not as much bread or vegetables in a given flight?" 

"Then we assume their harvest was not as productive as previous harvests and let it go at that." 

Katul was nonplussed. "But would other worlds not take advantage of thy simplicity?" 

"Does your world ever take advantage of it?" 

"No, but-" 

"Then none do." 

Katul suddenly realized that this tendancy to judge everyone by the actions of a few was a common trait among the people of Hershold, who were used to dealing with their sheep in exaclty the same manner. Yet they still maintained an ability to distinguish one who stood out from the rest, like a black sheep. Hans had immediately seen that Katul was not like the guards who came with him, on the same "black sheep" principle. 

They entered Hans's cave. There some people were busy weaving new clothing, and others were preparing the wool to put on the ship Katul came on.

* * *

 _Terran Date: June 17, 536 I.A.  
Fifth Day of Magicians, Month of Mana, Season of Magic_

Katul soon learned that the Hersholdite day was three hours shorter than he was used to. Although the Cynexian day and the Terran day coincided more or less precisely, depending on the whims of the seven moons, most worlds could not come near that kind of precision. 

Hershold had only two natural satellites, however, which were more than likely merely asteroids the planet had snagged somewhere along the line. The people had no names for them, but Katul thought that one looked like a potatoe and the other like an egg. Diverse other bits of rock floated about in the sky over Hershold, but none of these lesser bodies could be termed a "moon." They were largely stray asteroids, meteors, and a comet or two. 

"Thy planet is fair," Katul droned, still using his archaic dialect for some obscure reason. "But there be little of use to do here!" 

"Certainly there's a lot to do," protested Ilon, one of the boys who lived in Hans's cave. He and Katul were about the same age. "We sheer the sheep, gather up the wool, spin it into fabric, cut clothing out of it, and wear it or send it to the other worlds. We carry water, pick fruits, shape clay, weave baskets. What do you mean, there is little of use to do here? What did you expect, Internet?" 

Katul blinked, wondering how the shepherd boy knew about technology on other worlds. "Not particularly. We don't even have an Internet on Cynex." 

"You don't? Really?" 

"Where did you hear about it? Most advanced planets have one by now." 

"I spent a year on Rokajiz a while back," explained Ilon. "It's a jump of merely four years, so my brother Hans still lived to greet me upon my return. The same mother carried us at the same time, you know, but now we're different ages." 

"You mean, you're twins?" blubbered Katul, momentarily forgetting his ancient dialect in his surprise. 

"Is that your word? Yes, we looked the same when we were younger, also. We used to play jokes on people who couldn't tell us apart. But now he's eight years older than me." 

"'Tis a longer jump than that to Cynex," murmured Katul. "I have calculated the figures. My little sister would be fourty-five Terran years old if I return on the next jump, which I cannot." 

"Yes, Cynex is a rather long jump," Ilon commented. "There aren't many worlds in this region of space. I looked at the charts of other regions. In some parts of space there are a score of planets within five years of each other." 

Katul leaned against his staff and sighed, "I want to go home. I miss Arecana. I want to see my dear sister again." 

He pictured her childlike face, laughing, smiling. He imagined Arecana's soft pink skin, her red-brown hair, her green-brown eyes. Then he watched in horror as the child he saw grew up, grew old, and died of old age before he could return. 

"No, it will not be like that," Katul hissed. He clung to her personality instead of her image. Clenching his fist, he felt Arecana's joy, her willpower, her strength of spirit. He saw the old woman before him, and the eyes were the same, glowing with an inner flame, burning deep in her heart. "Arecana," he murmured. The name brought some comfort to his agitated mind. But not much.

* * *

 _Terran Date: March 2, 538 I.A.  
Sixth Day of Inhale, Month of Breath, Season of Air_

"I see a jumpship from Z'nandre has arrived," commented Ilon, who had become very close to Katul during the years of exile. 

"Oh?" Katul lifted his head, not entirely interested. "So what? Jumpships arrive from Z'nandre all the time." He had dropped his dialect because he thought it sounded ridiculous on this sheep-planet. 

Ilon shrugged. "Maybe it's somebody important. You never know. Let's go greet them." 

"Okay," Katul gave in. It was at least a break from gathering wool. He and his cave-brother climbed up onto the landing platform as the jumpship's door opened. 

"Welcome to Hershold, neighbor," Ilon smiled. "I am Ilon, and this is my brother Katul." 

A woman stood in the door. "Katul? Let me see your forehead." 

Katul blinked, lifting his long hair away from his face to reveal the birthmark. "Yes, I am Katul." 

"I have a letter for you from your sister," the woman announced. "I'll go get it." 

A letter! Katul's heart skipped in joy. It had been two years now, and there had been no word from Cynex. Had Arecana somehow gotten to Z'nandre? 

"Here it is, Katul. You say Ilon here is your brother?" 

"It's just a figure of speech. We live in the same cave, so we are called brothers by Hersholdite custom." Katul eagerly opened the letter and scanned it. "Arecana. What is she doing on Z'nandre? I'll have to do some more calculations. Would Arecana be able to find a ship bound for Cynex?" 

"No," answered the captain. "It's a jumper superstition not to go from a planet with no moons to one with seven." 

"What if she jumped to Orr then to Cynex?" asked Katul. 

The woman cocked her head, thinking. "That would be a way to get back home. You do your calculations, boy. I hope you see your sister again soon." She turned to Ilon. "Have you the wool ready to send?" 

"Just about," Ilon answered. "Come on, brother. Hans is going to need some help, since Mother broke her leg." 

Katul nodded, stuffing Arecana's letter into his smock, and trotted after the Hersholdite. 

"What do you think you're doing up there with that ship, Katul?" demanded the major. He had stepped out of the flocks of sheep so that Katul didn't notice his coming. 

"What do you mean, what do I think I'm doing?" Katul was insulted by the major's impertinence. "I got a letter from Arecana, Major Lisga. I'm going home in a few months." 

The soldier swallowed hard. Katul knew that he had been ordered to keep him there, but Arecana's mark was technically royal decree, even if she was a little girl. "Let me see the letter." 

Reluctantly, Katul pulled the letter out and snapped it open. "Read it and weep." 

"Don't go celebrating yet, Katul," the major gave a small smile. "This is not official. It doesn't bear the royal marking." 

"Not this letter, Major Lisga, but Arecana will send another when she finds a ship, and she'll be sure to have the X mark on it. I'm going home, major. And so are you." 

Lisga sighed. "Only if a royal decree comes. Don't get your hopes up, boy." 

Katul decided to recalculate the dates. If Arecana had gone to Z'nandre, she would have still been the same age when she sent her letter. He suspected that she was on her way home by now. Z'nandre was much closer to Cynex than either system was to Hershold. But for Katul, it was a personal victory as well. He had trusted in his sister, and she hadn't let him down. Home was just a few months and a few lightyears away.

* * *

 _Terran Date: March 3, 538 I.A.  
Seventh Day of Inhale, Month of Breath, Season of Air_

Katul dozed lightly in Hans's cave, his brothers and sisters relaxing around him. A few nightowls were still out gathering wool, but most of the villagers were asleep by now. Then Katul heard a shuffle of a steel-shod boot, which the Hersholdites didn't wear, and sat bolt upright, fully alert. 

"Lisga," hissed Katul. 

"Relax, Katul," the major whispered. "I mean you no harm. If I wished to hurt you I could have done so by now." 

"What do you want?" asked Katul as he stood up slowly. 

"I want to show you something," Lisga murmured. "I would advise you to come along quietly. There's no use waking the shepherds." 

Reluctantly, sensing a trap, Katul followed the major outside the cave. The major lead him to cave which served as a hangar for skyhoppers. Although the Hersholdites had very little technology, they had found skyhoppers useful for helping herd the sheep. Lisga gestured to a two-seated plane. They climbed into the craft and strapped themselves in. 

"Where are we going?" asked Katul quietly. 

"You'll see when we get there," replied the major. 

"I don't trust you." 

"I'm not asking you to." 

"Yes you are." 

Lisga sighed. "Don't argue, Katul. You'll just make things harder on yourself." 

A pause. "I still don't trust you. I don't even particularly like you." 

Not answering, Lisga started up the engine and flew the little aircraft out of the hangar-cave and into the black star-speckled sky. Hershold's two strange moons were visible from this part of the planet. 

"Why are we going north? What's north of here?" wondered Katul. 

"Keep still," Lisga snapped. 

"Why? What are you doing?" 

"Shhhh! Don't talk." 

Puzzled, Katul closed his mouth and looked at the landscape, trying to figure out where they were going. He recognized a few of the landmarks as they flew due north, but then they came to the edge of his knowledge and into the vast region unknown to Katul. A dark cloud covered the twin moons. 

"Silvane protect me," muttered Katul instinctively. A moment later he wondered whether Silvane had any power here at all. 

As they flew farther and farther away from the village, Katul caught a glimpse of the fuel gauge, and was shocked to see that they had already used more than half the fuel tank. Wherever they were going, the skyhopper wouldn't be able to return until morning, when the solar panels could be used. He decided that he didn't like this situation. Maybe if he could gain control of the plane and dump Lisga, the remaining fuel would be enough to get him back. 

Katul slowly drew the Cynexian boot dagger that he always carried. Then he unstrapped himself and poised himself to attack. With a cry, he leaped up and reached around the chair with both hands, awkwardly grappling with Lisga. The major cried out and fought back, causing the skyhopper to spin wildly out of control. Katul, no longer strapped in, was flung from the little plane. 

He landed in a pile of wool and grass and a few assorted sheep, which was just about everywhere on Hershold. Recovering as quickly as he could, he scrambled to his feet and watched in horror as the skyhopper crashed into the ground and went up in a fiery explosion. 

"So much for Major Lisga," muttered Katul as he fell unconscious on the bed of wool.

* * *

 _Terran Date: March 4, 538 I.A.  
First Day of Inhale, Month of Breath, Season of Air_

"Varansh, come here!" 

Katul opened his eyes as he slowly woke to see a little girl and a boy about his own age. The girl looked so much like Arecana that he had to rub his eyes before he was sure she couldn't be.


End file.
